News

  • Nation
  • World Updates
  • Courts
  • Parliament
  • Columnists
  • Opinion
  • Honours List

Friday January 7, 2005

Parts of Banda Aceh looking like scrap metal yards

By CHIN MUI YOON in Indonesia

I SAW with my own eyes the furious damage the tsunami inflicted on Banda Aceh when I arrived in the city with photographer Art Chen on Tuesday.

Rows of shophouses which once stood three-storeys high were now reduced to two-storey rubbles. An entire supermarket had crumbled like a giant, broken biscuit.

Some parts of the city look like scrap metal yards.

We had arrived in Medan from Penang at about 8pm on Jan 2 for an overnight stay.

The next day, accompanied by Mercy Malaysia volunteers Dr Quah Boon Leng and Norazam Abu Samahm, we were off to the Medan military airbase to catch a 3pm army plane transporting relief supplies to Banda Aceh.

Inside the huge hangar, mountains of boxes of food, mainly instant noodles and soups, biscuits and crackers as well as gunnysacks of clothes, medicine and kettles were piling up.

Soldiers and airport workers loaded pulleys and pellets with as much stock as they could before the goods were hauled out to incoming military aircraft.

We were allowed to fly with a load of goods on an Indonesian military aircraft. We hoisted our two backpacks, two laptops, a box of food, and a heavy suitcase of cameras and chargers atop a little truck alongside Mercy Malaysia’s boxes of iodine and two wheelchairs bought in Medan.

Busy traffic is again stirring in Banda Aceh's city centre with many roads reopened and debris and corpses cleared. The city's most recognisable landmarks, the Baiturrahman Grand Mosque is cleared of debris and mud where it makes a striking background. - Picture by ART CHEN
Our plane was filled to capacity, we were told. So we were redirected to a Spanish army aircraft. But as soon as we reached the other craft, the soldiers said it was also full.

As darkness fell, the airport coordinator told us to come back at 5am on Jan 4 where we were promised the first flight out of Medan.

Returning to the base after a few hours of rest at the hotel, news got to us that the only runway at Banda Aceh’s airport was closed because an Australian plane had skidded and became stuck there the day before.

Nevertheless, several soldiers ushered us to the military aircraft. We were to head for Sabang, a tiny squiggle of an island north of Banda Aceh and, from there, travel to the city by helicopter or ferry.

The flight lasted a little over an hour.

We then travelled in an ambulance to the district officer’s quarters up a little hill overlooking a peaceful bay.

Some 26,000 people live on the island and 12 had been killed in the disaster.

Norazam spoke to some officers and we were rushed back into the ambulance, which followed a convoy back to the military airport where several American helicopters were waiting.

Lugging our load, Chen and I ran to one of the aircraft but one of the workers, who shouted and flapped his hands, stopped us.

An army commander who had earlier asked us to get into the craft began arguing with the workers and told us again we should run back to the waiting helicopter.

However, as we were just about 50m from the craft it took off. Some soldiers pointed to another helicopter and our tired legs staggered there.

The chopper was crammed with people and boxes and we threw ourselves into the craft. Seconds later the helicopter gently lifted itself off the ground, hovered a moment and moved.

In less than 10 minutes we had our first sight of Banda Aceh.

Spread out below us were brown, muddy shorelines running into wastelands, and several lone coconut trees that had survived the waves. There were many watery squares of what used to be rice fields.

At 3pm local time, we touched down at Banda Aceh. We travelled to the Kesdam Military Hospital by van.

Much had improved, we were told. Many corpses that had been lying on the roadsides, underneath bridges and floating in the rivers had been collected.

Cranes and trucks were busy clearing up piles of soil, muddied wooden planks, stones and concrete on the road. People were selling fresh vegetables and little shops have been opened. Traffic has begun to stir in the city.

Dr Quah, who had seen the wards at their worst, said they are now clean and pleasant compared to last week when the ground was brown and red from muddied trails of blood.

Inside the nurses’ dormitories where we were to stay, sad reminders of lives lost are everywhere.

Combs, tudung (headscarves), colourful towels and hair accessories were left on the pastel bedsheets. Photos and stickers of Britney Spears and Hello Kitty were plastered on the wooden cupboards, where inside, clothes were neatly arranged.

On my upper bunk of a double-decker bed, the occupant had scrawled Yenni Susanti loves Fabri Heri, the love expressed in a little heart.

Will any of these nurses ever come back? We hear that many have died. But no one has time to fold or put away their belongings.

  • E-mail this story
  • Print this story

News Poll